Stardust
by snowblinded
Summary: "What would you do if the Sun went out? Would you blankly stare into the sky, pondering the reasons behind it? Would your hopes of survival spiral faster than a high-speed toilet? Did you think about it? I never had to until it happened." Gaara's first year recovering from his best friend's suicide. [Drugs/alcohol, eating disorders, self harm, suicide]
1. Chapter 1

I had a habit of romanticizing the stars a few years ago. I felt my feelings about the stars were deep, as if the stars were the only things who understood me. I was emotionally attached to these twinkling gems. In this inner world I created, they were respected, wise entities that provided knowledge to me. I was an unfortunate victim of what I had to call 'life' and I was blessed that they were companions who could lead me through.

I was such a shit head.

Any self-proclaimed 'creative' pre-teen goes through this phase. When they believe there's a singular part of the world that gives us an explanation of who we are or a certain purpose. We bind to them as if they're our cosmic partners, like finding kinship in the ocean or proclaiming peace with the greenery of Nature. During my phase, it was the stars above me. I spent nights and nights staring into the sky from my window, searching through them to obstain those oh-so precious secrets to life.

The cliched questions of self ran through my head, pretending the stars were listening to my thoughts. No matter the silence I received, I would formulate intricate responses from the stars and correspond them through writing. Falsifying a deep revelation through the ink on my paper, when reality was that I had wasted yet another eight hours of sleep. The few peers I spoke with also suffered from delusions of grandeur. I earned praise from my 'personal, touching' writing and they would relay their secret conversations with their wordly muses. I pretended to understand, but I never did, however I don't think they understood mine either. In the end, we were bullshitting each other with our make-believe sense of insight. It was a clusterfuck of thirteen year olds with overzealous imaginations.

The stars were my life pilot. I let them steer me in whatever direction, relying on astrological reports as genuine advice. The first mistake was being allowed to believe that millions of dead balls of gas could tell me I would 'meet my soul mate' or how I shouldn't wear this color because of 'bad luck.' Someone should have snatched that astrological newspaper from my eleven-year old self. Perhaps I would have had not to learn astrology was bullshit the hard way. That's not to say I wouldn't have sought life help through other forms, like numerology or tarot.

I was a baseless teenager looking for guidance, at least until I met Naruto.

o o o

"...green eyes, fucking weird."

My eyes felt too heavy to open, so I reached up and felt around. Rough carpet. Cookie crumbs. Leather sneaker. Thin ankle. And a pinch.

"Ow! The fuck, man?"

My tongue felt too big for my mouth, struggling within the confines of my gums. Another pinch.

"Quit! I was just saying they look green."

"Not." It was a simple reply to his statement, but I still managed to slur it. My tongue dropped back into my mouth like a five pound dumb bell, threatening to slip down my throat. The pink muscle worming its way through my body, burrowing into the crevices of my chest. Feeling the moist heat on my barely beating heart as it stretched into a snake. My heart was a rat, two seconds from becoming my tongue's next meal. At least that's what I felt like would happen if I did not force my tongue out of mouth. I didn't want to die. I didn't want to be known as 'The Boy Who Literally Choked On His Words.'

"Gaara, are you okay?"

I didn't shake my head. I thought my neck would snap if I moved. Another slur. "No."

If it wasn't for the fact that I was duct taped to the floor, I would have jumped when I felt the bottle leave my left hand.

"No more for you."

In my head, I thanked Naruto as he undid the tape and lead me to the bathroom, positioning my rag doll body over the toilet bowl in preparation. If he was five seconds late getting me out of his room, he would have had to explain to his mom why there was a pile of regurgitated cheese fries on her white carpet.

Cough syrup. It was a stupid recommendation from a sophomore for us broke kids who couldn't get weed, but still wanted an 'experience.' A solid hour switching between puke and diarrhea was not an experience I wanted, but Naruto helped me through it. He _better_ have. A lost Roshambo led me to be the guinea pig to see if it was worth it. At the time, the syrup wasn't. The scent of artificial cherries lingered in my mouth for an additional night, surviving the hour of throw up and rigorous brushing and mouthwash. Nowadays, I replay this memory of my first time with cough syrup with a smirk, remembering a hazy concerned Naruto when I almost swirlie'd myself. He grabbed a chunk of my red hair and pulled my head up, only to make me miss the bowl.

I remember his blue eyes, his soft voice, his hand on my back as I dry heaved.

And I break open the seal on my bottle of syrup, after all, the sooner I go to sleep, the sooner I can forget it ever happened.

o o o

My sister likes to bring up past events during breakfast. Trips to other states, things we used to do when our mom was alive. Her favorite was finding a pair of her underwear in my laundry in junior high, discovering I wore it to school once.

I do not have some gross pantie fetish, but I did have a gross astrology obsession that led me to that particular action. You see, in our school's newspaper, they had astrology reports. They were very cheesy, stereotypical horoscope advice stolen from daily horoscope websites on whatever day the newspaper was produced. The advisors liked to make changes to them for school events, like "There will be a major life event that will happen in your life: Konoha's Fall Pep Rally!" I would still paid a buck every week for the newspaper. Jammed between the pages of my textbook, I'd thumb through for the section as the teacher spouted off useless information. Inevitably, I became known as 'that star freak.' At first, I though it was flattering. For a kid whose only prominent feature was red hair, it was nice to have an identity out of that DNA gene. Or at least until that God awful prank.

It began with a simple horoscope tip: _Wearing blue underwear will bring you good luck_. I wanted good luck, who wouldn't? I checked my drawers when I got home and found out I did not own blue underwear, just neutrals and red. A quick dive into my brother's drawers was the same result, only cartoon characters. A sane person would pause, shrug, and move on. No blue underwear, no go. Obsession has no logic, no sanity. I dared not question my actions as I scoured through my sister's undergarments for something blue. I saw a pair of pale blue briefs under a pile of socks and slipped it on. This would be my good luck charm for school. After all, who was I to question the celestial gods above?

I don't want to relive the entire memory (once was enough), so to cut to the chase, I was pantsed in the middle of the lunch room, exposing the saggy briefs to every single classmate of mine. The echos of laughter did not stop after I threw down my lunch, pulled my pants on, and ran through the cafeteria doors. I took refuge in a handicap stall for the duration of lunch and a period, praying that no one could hear my tears over the groans of the poor plumbing.

A loud knock stalled my turmoil.

"Hey, is someone in there? I gotta _peeeee_..."

Although it was a kind request, I was paranoid of another prank. It would be easy to unlock the door to be faced with a bucket of water and flour or pushed into the stall into the toilet head first. The risk wasn't worth it.

I replied something about 'use another stall,' but my voice cracked. My throat was raw from crying. I sounded like my sister when she was cramping.

The door jostled for a moment. "Dude, the other stalls are tak-" A pause. "Wait, are you okay? You sound sick. You aren't throwing up, are you?"

I shook my head despite the bathroom door blocking his view. I didn't want to speak. I wasn't even sure if the constant flushes of toilets covered up my embarrassed wails.

The boy on the other side took the silence as permission to come in anyway. I was in the corner of the stall, face buried in my knees, staring at this guy's stained orange sneakers. The shoes took a step back and were replaced by a face. The brightest blue eyes I've ever seen stared back at me. I saw his gaze roam over my black clothes and red swollen eyes. I looked away, readying myself to curse him out if he commented, but instead he asked, "I have a bag of chips. Wanna split 'em?"

My body agreed with an immense growl. My lunch married the cafeteria tiles two periods ago, I didn't even get a sip of milk. The boy smiled and tossed a bag of Lays under the door. It bounced off the wall as he squeezed under the door. He reached for the bag and sat across from me. Blond hair, tan skin, blue eyes, a little chubby in the cheeks. He looked a little familiar, I wasn't sure from where. The smile never left his face as he opened the bag of chips and offered it to me. I hesitated, but went in for a handful.

"What those guys did was messed up."

I stopped, flashbacking immediately to the event that unfolded an hour ago. Blue underwear in front of the entire eighth grade. He was a classmate and he saw the entire scene. Why the hell was he offering me food?

"Oy, take some," he said, shaking the bag around my hand. "I know you didn't eat. Your pizza landed all over my shoes."

Damn. That's why his shoes were stained. He cut me off before I could apologize.

"Don't worry about it. I don't understand why they would do something like that anyway? We're in eighth grade, not fifth. Who even 'pantsed's' anymore? Is that even a funny thing to do?" The blond paused, quietly adding, "Well I guess everyone did laugh, huh?"

I crunched loudly into my chips that he didn't notice I took. I could only sarcastically thank him for the reminder.

He sheepishly smiled, apologizing. "I take it you listened to that one horoscope with blue underwear. But don't worry." He stretched out his legs and pulled up his pants. One green sock and one polka-dotted one. "My horoscope told me that mismatched sock would bring me good test scores today. As if! I still failed a pop quiz _and_ look like a clown."

He did recognize me as the 'star freak' and told me not to feel bad about what happened. It was an immature prank and the more reaction I showed, the more I would get bullied like that. He persuaded me from the school horoscopes, saying that it's 'an abuse of power' letting articles like that be written by students. He had my vote on that.

He told me his name was Naruto. I told him mine was Gaara. We were inseparable from that moment on.

o o o

"Why does your breath reek?"

I close my eyes, used to swaying of my brain. Left and right. Left and right. "I'm sick."

Sasuke raises an eyebrow when I give a weak cough. He shrugs and accepts it. His eyes catch a group of familiars. He mumbles a 'see you later' and blends into the throng of artsy kids, shuffling down the barren hallway.

I watch as he smiles to one of his friends. He never smiles when he's with me, just an occasional smirk. I watch until they turn the corner.

Three large gulps followed by a heavy string of coughs. _I'm sick_.

o o o

I was taught at a young age not to play with food. It's nourishment, it's important to eat, not lounge around on your plate until it became cold. Naruto always played with his. Not pushing around his peas with his fork, but legitimate play. He introduced me to what he called 'Lunchtime Laughs.' He would spend every lunch period using his food as 'actors' for ridiculous plays he would make. It was the stupidest thing I've ever witness in my thirteen year old life. I would be lying though if I didn't enjoy every minute of it.

Eighth grade turned around for me when I met Naruto. He was the complete opposite of what I though I would want in a friend. He lacked the kindred sense of negativity, resorting to a brutal truth approach to conflict. He was blunt, spoke without thought, whether it was kind or mean, it was refreshing to see. Yet after whatever borderline cruel thing he could have said, he propped a large smile like he hadn't said anything at all. I also thought I would need someone to keep up with my sarcasm or witty humor. His humor was crass, however he was open minded and honest enough to exchange our everyday life, thoughts and beliefs without issues. Unceremoniously, I sat down at our table one day and announced that he would be my best friend.

The blond stopped slurping his soup with surprised eyes. I waited as Naruto finished slurping the wall of noodles dangling from his mouth. He gave me a thumbs up and replied, "Cool."

It was our routine. Lunch together, shooting the breeze, and watch Naruto's newest installment of Lunchtime Laughs. The chicken nuggets and pools of mashed potatoes would often go untouched as we were caught up in the silliness of it all. We would go to class starving, but giggling to ourselves. The blond forgot more than me. Several bites were taken from his meal, even on days when we did not have a play, we'd discussed the details of the next one. I would remind him from time to time to actually eat, but Naruto waved it off, saying it wasn't a big deal. he'd just eat at home.

"Besides, gotta stay fit for the _ladies_ ," he'd joked, winking at his crush, Sakura walking by. She only gave a disgusted face before walking away.

The year progressed faster than I was comfortable with, health class constantly reminding us of puberty's onslaught. Naruto sprung up an inch or two, making me look shorter than I already was. He joked that I could become his sidekick, then I kicked him in the side. My height didn't change that year, but my body did, especially my lower body. I knew about sex and babies and the unfortunate topic of 'women's health' thank to the required seminar. I also discovered masturbation. I risked asking Naruto about it, just to discover he had a head start of me.

"Yeah, I yanked it before," he happily admitted. I winced at the word 'yank.' "No, no, I don't mean like, actual pulling. That'd hurt like hell! I mean, I-"

I cut him off before he revealed his dirty details. I asked about the things we learned in health class like growth.

"Growth? Obviously I grew like, five inches!" I corrected his over dramatic answer and clarified what type of growth I meant. "What, _that_? Sheesh, that's a little weird, don't you think?" I told him it wasn't, that it was normal. "Fine, whatever. Yeah, I guess I grew a bit there..." He shifted in his seat. "I also got some hair. Itches though."

Naruto switched the topic almost immediately, but I got the basic answers.

I was curious about how the other guys in our grades were doing. Were they growing hair too? Did they randomly sprout erections in their sleep? Did... did they touch themselves also? I was happy Naruto told me he did, but I figured it was a fluke. We're outcasts, we always did what other people didn't. I shouldn't assume that the others did the same thing. And the real question I wanted to ask, I didn't think Naruto would give me the answer I wanted to hear. I thought about it all the time, before my hand reached down and after when I cleaned up with a wet napkin. What do they think about when they touch themselves?

I hated changing in gym because of the guys flaunting their new body hair to each other, even tugging the waistband of their underwear to show their pubes. I would hide my face behind a book. It was so embarrassing. What was so fascinating about these tiny, useless hairs? The days that I didn't change were days I hid in the stalls until I heard all of their footsteps leaving the locker room. I sat on the bleachers, filling out homework and observing their bodies. Adam's apples starting to peek from their throat, wide shoulders, legs sprouted. One day, Naruto joined in on their body hair antics. I reached my limit and so did the other boys.

Although Naruto tried to stop them, a few boys approached me and asked, "Are you red down there too?"

They looked at each other, hardly containing their stupid snickers. I heard 'fire crotch' under someone's breath. Their pathetic attempt to shame me. At the time, I was clean because I took clippers to the hair every time they grew. It wasn't their business and promptly told them to 'fuck off.'

I am almost positive I knew that answer wouldn't bold over with them. I wasn't sure if I was ready to deal with the consequences of mouthing off when I was clearly outnumbered. Or maybe I wanted to get beat up. Give me an excuse to not sit in the locker room, face beet red from the stupidity of these boys. Two boys shoved me and held me to the tiled floor as I was pantsed again, taking the underwear with. There was a laugh about my 'wispy whiskers,' but it didn't last long before Naruto's fist met someone's jaw. A seven second scramble ended with the gym teacher pulling Naruto and the guy who pansted me from one another. The other guy got a scratch by his eye. He didn't look at me as the teacher yanked both Naruto and him away. His friends didn't make a second attempt to mess with me, leaving me to pull back on my bottoms. Naruto got detention and the Pansted Guy left school early. He might have gotten an write up, I'm not sure.

When I got home, I locked my bedroom door and replayed the locker room event in my head. I liked it. I liked getting pushed onto the floor and stripped. I liked being beneath the Pantsed Guy and his friends, watching their Adam's apples vibrate as they laughed, strong hands gripping my shoulders and hips. It took me a very long, mentally painful week to fully comprehend the fact, but the fact was, I liked boys.

Things changed that year. Naruto grew taller, hairier, stranger. I grew aware of my uncomfortable interest. I couldn't find the words to talk to Naruto about it. I didn't want to lose the only friend over it. I didn't risk it, but I didn't admit it to myself either. I never thought to myself that I was gay. No. I liked boys. I could like boys and pretend I didn't want to hold their hands and kiss them. I could like boys and pretend I didn't want to touch them. I could like boys and pretend I didn't touch myself _to_ them. Liking boys did not mean I was gay. That was the half-assed lie I tried to live by.

While we changed physically and emotionally, there was one thing that would never change and that would be Naruto's food play. With another two inches to his height, he pretended to be Godzilla and destroy macaroni buildings and break celery buses. I laughed like usual, but I noticed another thing that changed with Naruto.

"Naruto?"

He glanced up from his crumbled chicken tenders. "Yeah?"

"You need to brush more, your teeth are yellow."

He gave me a bright smile, dulled by the pale paste along his gum line. "I'm too sick to brush." He gave me the worst impression of a sick cough I've ever heard.

I shrugged and bit into a chicken tender he hadn't destroyed and flicked the remaining at his head. "Whatever you say, nerd."

o o o

I dropped my bottle into the nearby trash can and stumbled to my next class, coughing on the way. I hate being sick.

o o o

 **August 17**

I had grown attached to traveling thanks to years of family trips. My bag stuffed with fifty cent road maps and tourist brochures as souvenirs. I wasn't a fan of dolphins in glass orbs with the co-existing name of where we visited or cheesy keychains. I found it so common and generic. There was something kitschy about bright pamphlets in terrible font and photos from the 90s, kinda warmed my heart. My sister would chide me as I slip another cave tour paper into my backpack. Some shit about 'those souvenirs are just going to rot in the trash when you get home.'

"And so will our memories, yet here we are, trying to create more of them."

My brother, Kankuro, used to joke about leaving me behind like a 'Joe Dirt' recreation. From the look my sister gave me, I'm sure she was considering it.

As she walked away, I pulled the backpack onto my shoulder. A heavy dip in gravity gave me an ache, but the extra weight was satisfying. I have a sick fantasy of this backpack. It's the catalyst of my endless summer. I imagine my backpack becoming so heavy that it needs a forklift. I can't leave it behind though. Per Temari, 'it's my only memories of this vacation,' I plea. Temari and Kankuro whip out their wallets and waste the last of our money on this forklift, realizing there's nothing left for the gas money. We're trapped. We're on perma-vacation. No starting school next week, no tests and exams, just me and the sand between my toes for infinity.

The reality? Once my bag becomes too heavy for me, Kankuro will just start carrying it. It kills my perma-vacation goal, but there are other ways to achieve it. This entire trip, I spent more time thinking of how to entrap us in the desert than actually enjoying it. Different plans with different results, including a tire patch from my inexperience with knife.

During the last three days, I resigned to the universal response to all of my sabotage. I had to go to school and face everyone, unable to slip under the radar like I wanted. A junior year wasted with awkward tension and insincere gestures. My teenage angst wallowed on the RV couch by the microwave, waiting for my Hot Pockets. Whenever I hear a voice in my ear asking how I was, what I was thinking, I'd take a bite, unable to answer. I would rather burn my tastebuds off from the lava pit dubbed 'pepperoni and cheese' before entertaining my siblings' cheerleading attempts. Why complain or correct them when a cup of ice cold water was more important to soothe my mouth?

I set up to sleep outside on the roof on one of last nights. I had a triple layer of sweater, blanket, and sleeping bag, pretzeling my legs under my blanket for the time being. I dropped my book onto my lap and turned on my flashlight, gazing up into the sky. The stars, my once allies. My once friends. We were acquaintances at this stage of my life. I gave up on them ages ago, only re-introducing myself recently. I learned new facts about them. No poetry, fiction, or essays, just a solid base of beginner's astronomy. It helped correct my delusional thoughts of pubescence, reminding myself that stars are not shamans or gurus. They were balls of plasma held together by gravity, exerting heat and gas, nothing more. They have no philosophical ideologies nor astounding comprehension of the universe. They're merely pawns of the celestial world that are way beyond my reach. To personify them as wise beings is an insult to their creation, yet I did such as a younging. I looked up to them as guides, but what I was doing was pulling them down to our pathetic human level. They spend much of their life dying than alive, so why are we asking them for advice?

This book I nabbed off the sales rack helped me switch perspective from curious stargazer to inquisitive researcher, wanting to analyze and understand the masses floating above me. My eyes bounced from star to star, relaying info I read to myself as a reminder. When I wasn't trying to sabotage the gas tank with sand, I read about stars, meteors, the galaxy. I tried to replace my melancholy with knowledge and it worked... somewhat. When I ran out of the facts in my head, I paused and closed my eyes.

It was the closest thing to silence I've experienced. The hush of air, the shuffle of sand, muffled snores of Kankuro through the cracked window. An everlasting still as I was the only living being in the fifty mile radius of dirt and sand dunes. All good things come to an end though...

o o o

Neji doesn't approach when he sees me in our English class. He looks off and sits on the other side of the room from me, his long brown hair swishing over the desk behind him like a dramatic cape.

There's nothing but whispers as the room begins to fill up, starting the far side. I know they're avoiding me. I hear their desks screeching away from where I sit at the window.

I take a chance to look over at Neji. He's faced forward. I know he knows I'm looking at him, I can see his fingers twitch on the side of his leg. The longer I stare, the more I want to yell and rip locks of hair out of his skull and stab his pencil in his eye, turn those full moon eyes into a blood moon. If there was anyone I needed right now, it was him, yet he's sitting there like I don't exist.

Fuck him.

My fingers fly over my phone's keyboard in the middle of class.

 _I need a hit._

A couple minutes later, my pocket vibrates.

 _Are you okay?_

I sit up straight when I hear my name and abandon the 'no' sitting in the message.

o o o

I did a lot of dumb shit years ago. There was a time where all Naruto and I did was prank call people in school using numbers our peers would post in each others comments on Myspace. Well, Naruto did most of it while I sat back and laughed at the idiocy. I pushed the limit once when I tried to get him to staple himself, although I was just curious to see if he was easily pressured. Unfortunately, I was more convincing that I thought. His mom banned me from their house for a month while helping remove the staple from his thigh. I also learned to keep an eye out for him. If he didn't grasp the idea of a staple in his leg as bad, I couldn't imagine the things other kids would trick him into doing.

A couple of months ago, we snuck out to an upperclassmen party. It wasn't the first time we done it, but it was the first time we didn't get kicked out. It was the last party of the school year, so I guess they were too busy celebrating graduation to care. With a few steps in the door way, Naruto disappeared into the crowd. I told myself that I didn't care, yet I beelined for the nearest booze to silence the whisper of resentment. We weren't on good terms and I'm not even sure why either of us agreed to do this. We knew we weren't going to hang out together. Naruto had his dealer and stoners to hang with and I had... a red cup of straight vodka to nurse for the rest of the night. I'll be the first to admit that I can't hold liquor. Somewhere between an estimated five and seven shots, I was approached by Sasuke for the first time, the best friend of a guy I'm _massively_ head over heels for. I couldn't tell you about our conversation. I'm sure it was a jumble of slurs, but I must have appealed to him somehow to exchange numbers. Later that night, unceremoniously in my belligerence, I lost my virginity to a stranger. I vaguely recall pulling on my shirt backwards and slightly regretting what I did. I wasn't saving myself, but I would be lying if I wasn't disappointed that it wasn't with my crush. The party itself wasn't the dumb shit I did, it was what came afterward.

Around 7am, Naruto and I found ourselves stumbling home in hungover agony. A groggy walk through a cul-de-sac we only been to once, watching the sun fill up more and more of the sky to our displeasure. I'm sure neither of our mental GPS' were working that morning, so we just kept walking until we found a familiar landmark. Our sneakers dragged across the pavement in silence. Other than the occasional groan, we didn't speak. We had less then twenty words between us from last night to this moment. It was a long departure from us as pubescent kids when he would practically scream in my ear about minuscule things like a new video game or a booger he accidentally picked. Sometimes I had wondered how we got to this point after only three years. Friends, frenemies, and then, whatever you would call this. Like a couple whose love faded years ago, but they still date because it's become their routine? Like that, we moved past screaming matches in public corridors about our problems. It trickled down into the verbal equivalent of knife fights. The goal wasn't to understand each other anymore, it was just about the pain we could cause.

They say insanity is repeating the same act over and over again and hoping for a new result. So, I did what I always felt inclined to do and start a meaningless conversation. Everyone says communication is key, right? That's how you're supposed to fix relationships, _right_? Who ever came up with that advice never met Naruto Uzumaki.

"...I slept with someone last night."

A quiet statement, enough so that I thought he hadn't heard it. I tried to make out the look on his face, but it looked the same as it did for the past year. Cold, like his former exuberance froze over. He replied just as quietly, kicking a rock in front of his foot.

"...I thought Neji wasn't into sluts."

Naruto unsheathed his knife. Time for mine.

"One time doesn't make me low hanging fruit, like you."

"You spoke so _proudly_ about respecting yourself. Bet you don't even remember his name."

"At least my body isn't a tally board for anonymous conquests."

I lost my breath when my body slammed into the pavement, knee pinning me down. I kept my eye on the stark white fist above me. Green veins popped out of the bony hand, contrasting the angry red lines down his arm. I struggled to catch my breath as he started his turn.

"My parents never left me on the street like a sick dog!"

Straight to my stomach. I held back the vomit that wanted to come out.

"My parents take care of me, they give a fuck about me. Where are yours, huh?! They never looked back in the mirror, oh no, just a mixed mutt that ruined their marriage."

His fist never touched me. It lowered back to Naruto's side as he took his knee off my chest. His final blow, just quiet enough that I had to strain to listen.

"Your mom should have put you down in the womb. It's not like she ever wanted you in the first place..."

I whisper, "That's not true."

My therapist asks, "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing, I was just thinking about..." I sit up on the couch and cross my legs. "Can we just...?"

I shake my head, trying to keep the memories in my head. "I just... can we just..." I let out a loud sigh and ask, "Forget what I said. Can we just talk about my family? Please?"

"That's alright, Gaara." He straightens up and leans forward. "What do you want to talk about specifically?"

"My mom. My birth mom."

o o o

I wheeze a steady stream of smoke through my mouth, ending with a weak cough.

"You shouldn't be smoking if you're sick," Kiba nags me.

I try not to smile. "I'll smoke if I want. 'Sides, Mr. Football Player probably shouldn't be smoking either."

The brunet boy in the driver's seat shrugs, adjusting his olive cargo jacket. "Yeah, sure, but I'm thinking of quitting."

"Shut the fuck up, why?"

"I..." Kiba runs his hand through the messy brown bush he called a 'hair do.' "I'm thinking of coming out."

I stop halfway through my inhale and cough out what I had in my body. I struggle through wheezes, "Wait, what? Why? I thought you-"

"Yeah, I know what I said months ago, but I can't do this anymore." Kiba sinks low into his seat, propping one knee on the steering wheel. "It was okay before, just acting like football was more important than dating, but I kinda met someone..."

"Kiba Inuzaka, so deep in the closet, he started wrapping Christmas presents for this year LAST year, finally fell for someone?"

He cranks the window down as he answers, "Don't make fun of me, man. Little blond kid from _Hysteria_ , also plays football. Met him two weeks ago actually, but we started texting last week. And I'm just sorta psyched on seeing where this will go. And if works out, I can't do a secret relationship. I wanna be able to treat him like a partner, not some side piece, you get me?"

I watch our hotbox slowly drift out his window, just like what I am going to do for him.

"So, we're through?"

Kiba turns to me with a sheepish grin and glances toward the radio. "I mean, I don't think he'd appreciate me hooking up with some other guy when I'm trying to be serious."

I take a long inhale and hold, contemplating my reply, but it's as simple as:

"Can we still smoke though?"

The brunet rolls his eyes. "No more free dick..."

"...So give me free weed," coughing up the rest of the smoke.

"I got you, Gaara. Really, I appreciate everything up to now." He squeezes the hand on my lap. "Honestly."

Honestly? I feel even sicker than before I smoked.

o o o

"Did you have a good first day?" Temari asks.

 _Would have preferred eating glass._

"It was whatever." I reply.

"People were nice, right?"

 _Pity isn't kindness._

"I guess."

"You want something to drink, bro?" Kankuro asks.

 _I ran out of cold medicine..._

"...Okay."


	2. Chapter 2

I was worried the first time I slept over Naruto's. I wasn't attracted to him. It was evident when I saw him naked in the locker room and cringed as if I walked in on my sister changing. It was a month or two since I acknowledged (and dug a shallow grave in my thoughts for) my sexuality. Homophobia was a concern. My brother and sister and Naruto. They were the only three people I had in my life and if I lost them... Kankuro had to shove me out of the car and drag me to the door since I dug my heels into the walkway. I was gripping my red sleeping bag outside of the Naruto's front door, hands shaking too hard to knock, but his mom had heard the screech of the car in the driveway.

Soon enough, it was late at night, I sat on his bed as he acted out some fight scene from a tv show he was watching. I tried to understand what was happening, though Naruto didn't give exact details. Just a vague description before thrusting his imaginary sword into someone's chest. He reenacted the grisly sounds of dying, falling to his knees with hands in the air, and collapsed to the floor. I gave him a rousing applause. No doubts he could be a theatre kid in high school.

However, I still had... feelings, about myself. Alone. In a bedroom. With a boy. I wasn't panicking as much as I was just stressed about the situation. So I asked him, "What do you do when you're stressed?"

A blue eye popped open from his dead position on the floor. "Uhm? Are you okay, Gaara?..."

"I'm fin... I'm okay, but... I was just wondering. You," I pause. "You just always seem so happy."

He always was. A sheepish grin if he got into trouble, a half grin if he was embarrassed, and the howling laugh he gave over dumb shit that happened. I used to wonder if it was even physically possible to spread a mouth so wide and if he was just an anomaly of the human anatomy.

Naruto got on all fours and crawled over to look at me. There was something serious in his eyes, then he gave a small smile. "I just try harder to be," he softly said. Before I could ask what he meant, he stood up and began a new scene with a bad British accent. I was confused, but I let it go. We were friends. If he had something to talk about, he would tell me.

When he finished the scene, Naruto turned on his tv and game console and disappeared to use the bathroom, tossing his wireless controller at me on his way out. My hand shot out to the remote to lower the blaring noise escaping the speakers. I had no clue why he would even give me the controller. I told him on numerous occasions how bad I was at games. I squinted at the screen though, able to deduce it was a fighting game. I sighed and accepted that I would just button smash until I found a decent combo to get by.

After ten rounds of getting my ass handed to me by the computer, I stopped to joke that the game is rigged, but as I turned around, I realized he wasn't in the room. Not perched on the computer chair, not lounging on his bed, not even squatting on the tacky orange bean bag near me. There was no way he was still in the bathroom after this time unless he had food poisoning or the runs. I shuddered at the thought of him expelling from either end. I bet he was just as dramatic about it as he was about losing a pencil in class. But I didn't hear him calling for me or his mom either. The bathroom _was_ on the other side of the wall. I frowned and decided to check in on him.

I pressed my ear against the bathroom door, splashes of a toilet affirming my thoughts.

I gave two knocks and asked, "Naruto, are you okay?"

I heard a fumbling that seemed to hit the metal trash can by the toilet, then a loud hack and a spit. Definitely throwing up.

"Fuck, you scared me, Gaara!" The voice was ragged.

I rolled my eyes. "Not my question, Naruto."

"No, no, I'm fine." A higher pitch on the end. Was he lying?

"Are you sure?" I pressed. "I can go get your mom."

"No, I'm good," he replied with a stronger tone. He cleared his throat. "Trust me, I'm good."

I leaned against the door with my shoulder and crossed my arms. "Well, if you say so. Maybe it was the chicken? I thought the 'rare to well done' thing only counted for beef."

It was five seconds before Naruto agreed. "Yeah, probably."

"You eating three plates of food probably didn't help either," I chuckled.

I heard him snort. "Don't you know I'm training to be a competitive eater?"

"For what? The free hot dogs?"

"The babes bringing me the hot dogs, duh!"

That was enough for me to let it go. I reminded him again I could go get his mom if he had food poisoning. He just told me he was going to drink some Pepto, but he might be in and out of the bathroom the rest of the night. I went back to his room and continued the fighting game until Naruto returned and took over the job the computer had been doing: handing me my ass.

I wish I could say that this was how all my times spending the night at his place was, but it wasn't. I slept over four more times that year, only stopping by his request. His mom was not quite all there. From snippets I overheard her phone conversations from her walking from the stairwell to her room, she and Naruto's dad were having issues. I hadn't questioned Naruto why his dad was pictured on the walls, but was never in the house. I first thought he must have passed and I wanted to avoid that triggering question. At least until I heard his mom yell on the phone in the other room that 'that scumfuck threatened to take her to court.' I immediately looked to Naruto in concern, who only continued to inhale his second plate of food. I don't even think he acknowledged the conversation.

Two times I heard his father in the house, but never saw him. It would be late, after midnight. I was a light sleeper, so slamming doors and screaming about money and one of them talking to another person woke me up. What kept me up was the muffled sobs from Naruto's bed during and after the fights. I got up to comfort Naruto only once, but he turned away and told me it was just a bad dream and pretended to go to sleep. After that, I stopped trying. Looking back, it was probably dumb of me. I thought respecting his privacy was more important and he would open up to me. Yet every morning, he would wear the same goofy smile and pretend it never happened, kissing his mom in the morning and telling her he loved her. Naruto was a great actor.

o o o

I flush the toilet, watching the combination of dinner and syrup swirl into the hole. _Sensitive stomach. Chalk it up to being sick_.

o o o

"Are you sure you don't want to drive, Gaara?" Kankuro asks, spinning the keys around his finger. "I was itching to drive when I was fourteen, you never asked once and what, you're sixteen now?"

I slowly shake my head, opening the passenger door.

Kankuro scratches his head in confusion, insisting, "Come on, bro. How much hotter would you be if the guys see you in your own cruise mobile, you know?"

"Are you saying that I'm hot?" I climb into the seat and shut the door.

"Someone is always into goths." He climbs into his seat and shuts the door.

"I don't even wear black that often anymore." I put on my seatbelt.

His eyes drift to my black ensemble, with only a white t-shirt sticking out of my sweater.

He grins, clicking his seatbelt in. "Hot Topic says otherwise."

"Fuck you."

o o o

I cringe, listening to the aluminum foil and plastic scrunch echo in the bathroom. Maybe I should have done it outside, but there's no privacy when the skaters circle the school perimeter like sharks. I lose count, but I take six more before getting up. I stuff the unfinished box back into my bag and take one more swig from my water bottle.

 _That should be enough. If not, I can take the last four after sixth period. If it comes down to it, I could go to the nurse's offic-_

A flush scares me from my thoughts. I exit quickly with a loud cough, forgetting to cover up the empty green box of cough pills sitting in the trash can.

o o o

My sister used to tell me how much she loved high school, that she had _so_ many friends and she always went on trips and parties. Kankuro would say the opposite. Temari was popular. High school was unforgiving for those without big tits and nice legs or rocking a sports jersey. Kankuro told me about when he was a freshman, the seniors trashed their hallway, putting glue, spoiled milk, and glitter into their lockers. Everyone got written up and given shit by the administration, almost even had prom canceled. They used their senior prank on the freshmen other than to... intimidate them? Maybe? That was Kankuro's guess. He got into fights over the face paint he wore to school. Temari said he literally painted a target on himself. Kankuro told her it's no excuse for someone to throw a rag of toilet water at his face to 'clean up.'

Their polarizing experiences of high school gave me anxiety when my time came to enter ninth grade. I was never actively a target, but sometimes I would get harassed for being the astrology kid, the 'goth' kid. I wasn't sure if those factors would make my time there worse than junior high already was.

"And your smart kid classes," Naruto had to remind me while I packed my backpack.

Of course. And my advanced classes. Because I chose to put my face in books than making friends. Kids always tried (and sometimes succeeded) to 'borrow' my notes or homework, playing nice for a couple of minutes until I told them 'no.'

"Tsk, fucking freak," they would hiss, leaning over to a different kid to ask them instead.

Naruto was never nervous about it. He took it as an opportunity to be seen as a grown up. He was fourteen, he was almost out of puberty. He was practically a _man_ , in his words.

"Tell that to Rated R movies," I reminded him.

He belly flopped from the computer chair onto my bed, sending a pile of loose paper all over my room. He only laughed when I starting smacking him with one of my pillows. "Hey, hey! Quit it! Listen, at least you're not repeating Algebra!"

I hit him once more in the face and threw the pillow at his stomach. "No one's fault but yours."

"But I haaate math," Naruto whined, pillow scrunched in his arms.

I collected the papers scattered on my floor and desk to put into its binder with a roll of my eyes. He had barely gotten through 8th grade, failing three courses. He was able to take two of them in summer school, but he was stuck with the class he hated the most. It was mostly just from laziness. He never did homework. I would bitch at him all the time. He just ignored me to play video games the entire night and then ask to borrow my work in the morning. Yet another leech to my homework.

Naruto flipped himself up to sit. "Do you think high school math is going to be worse?"

I zipped my binder into the backpack, threw it onto the floor, and joined Naruto on the bed. I leaned back on the pillows and stared at the ceiling. With Temari's and Kankuro's words in mind, I replied, "I think everything is going to be worse."

I couldn't see Naruto's face, though I'm sure it was a frown. "Don't be a Negative Nancy. Come on, we're going to be high schoolers! We're going to be those cool kids the sixth graders at the bus stop talk about."

"Naruto, maybe you will be that 'cool kid,' but I know I won't."

"You could stop wearing black..." I shot up with my pillow ready to smack him. He scurried away from me with a big grin, almost falling off the bed in the process. "I'm just saying!" He said, dodging my first swing.

"You'll pry my Hot Topic shirts from my cold, dead hands!" I joked, jumping up with a second pillow in hand.

We sure weren't acting like the _men_ Naruto claimed we were. I don't know any man who grabs a garbage can lid as a shield against a dual pillow wielding goth kid and screeches about domestic abuse to those in the house. Temari and Kankuro continued watching their movie in the living room without a care. There was a vague threat if I hit any of the lights or things on the shelves, but I was too busy trying to get Naruto from behind the breakfast bar. I think it was the last time I laughed so hard in my life, watching the blond dodge and weave around the kitchen chairs from my swings. He even stole the pillow Kankuro was on to hit me back. We did actually hit a glass vase and had to clean it up, however, I did feel better. As long as I could get through high school with Naruto by my side, I thought I would be fine. Everything would be fine.

o o o

"I might throw up my lungs..."

I stare at myself in the glass trophy case. My hair looks like real fire, slowly drifting down my body. I can see the smoke filling up the air above me.

"I'm going to set off the fire alarm..."

I close my eyes, waiting for the blaring alarm and bells in a few seconds.

A teacher puts their hand on my shoulder and I shout.

"No, it's spreading!"

He looks at me with surprise and then laughs. "You feeling alright?"

"Yeah... not enough sleep, I'm sorry, sir." There's a slur on my S's. I pray he doesn't notice.

"I understand, the bell is going to ring soon, you should get going to class."

I nod and try to leave as he mentions, "You know you can talk to the guidance counselor whenever..."

I don't look back and just nod. He's on fire too. I can see in the reflection, his hands are melting.

 _I need to lay down soon..._

o o o

 **August 6th**

I hated being at this Trailer Park Inn. I wanted to camp and be with nature, not hang out in recreational buildings with A. C. I didn't want to watch Temari update her Facebook or body slam the vending machine with Kankuro to get free soda. I fought tooth and nail to keep us out on the reserve, so I could walk outside to the exotic plant life and a vast horizon of emptiness. Now the view was numerous electrical posts, a sewer pump and water pump. Sprinkled in between were the other trucks, trailers, and RV's circling the recreational building. The only sight worthy of being here was the small manmade lake. It was given its own privacy with an encasement of fake plants and cacti. I barely saw anyone go out there. All the other guests seemed content to lounge on the lawn chairs, watching day time television.

I had watched Temari and Kankuro's game of ping pong for far too long, but I wasn't sure how to escape. My dark clothes stood out against the sterile white walls and linoleum floors. The yellow fluorescent lights kept a spotlight on me, from where Temari would peak out the corner of her eye to check on me. I hadn't moved from the small bench behind her. Well, I scooted the bench an inch or two closer to the door every time she turned her back to me.

I stood, ready to leave the rec room at the end of Kankuro and Temari's ping pong game to visit the lake. I paused when Temari suddenly greeted a family of three who had walked through the same door. I guess she did notice my escape plan. "Hey, do you folks want to play a round? Would be nice to have real opponents."

They looked like they were of Native American descent with thick, black straight hair, dark brown skin, and small almond eyes. The father was very clean cut, glasses held up on his face by high, chubby cheekbones, while the mother had a soft oval face and long braid touching her waist. They looked at each other and approached us with a smile... well, the husband did. The wife had a dull face as if Temari hadn't said anything to her.

"Don't mind if we do," the father spoke up. "I haven't played since college."

The blank faced mother squatted under the table to pick up two extra paddles from the basket below. She inspected the yellow one in her right hand. "I've never played before, so you may have to explain the rules," she admitted.

The father gasped and joked, "Nina, you have missed an unforgettable experience." He pushed up his glasses and asked, "Have I ever told you I was on my university's ping pong team?"

"Never," Nina murmured. She eyed the ping pong table and looked up at Kankuro's get up of a black cat hood and face paint. She didn't appear to give much judgement, commenting, "Interesting style," before joining her husband on the other side of the table.

I heard Kankuro whisper to Temari about someone appreciating avant garde fashion. She hushed him and asked, "College ping pong, huh? Competitive sport or a leisure club?"

"Competitive," he proudly stated, face slowly morphing into embarrassment. "I was actually a benchwarmer, but we did do pretty well."

"Wow, Toby," Nina drawled. She twirled the paddle in her hand, face still as impassive as before. "Instilling team confidence here."

Toby gaped, insisting, "Honey, don't worry, we will defeat them."

Temari and Kankuro starting laughing, Kankuro's turning into a dramatic evil laugh. "You will never defeat us. The ping pong trophy shall be ours!"

"Is there actually a trophy?" Toby asked.

Kankuro shrugged. "I saw on a poster in the lobby about there being a competition tomorrow evening, but I didn't read the prizes."

Toby nodded and then pointed his paddle at Kankuro, "You will never get the trophy, fiend!"

They all laughed, besides Nina, and began to set up for their game when I heard a voice besides me groan, "Oh my god."

The third member of the family, the daughter. Her short legs were shown off in short dress covered in daisies and sandals. Her face was buried in her hands, long hair brushing past her elbows.

"I'm so sorry," she muffled through her hands. "My parents are so embarrassing."

I didn't think they were embarrassing, just having fun. I've experienced worse with Temari and Kankuro at parent-teacher meetings when they're surrounded by my peers. I shrugged, even if she couldn't see me do it, "I've yet to meet a pair that aren't."

The girl dropped her hands with a heavy sigh. "Yeah, I guess that's true," in a husky voice that surprised me. I had thought the depth of her voice was muffling from her hands.

Her eyes were a deep brown, wrapped in black winged liner, same almond shape as her parents. She had pink, high cheekbones and small lips settled between a square nose and round jaw. Her shoulders jutted out from the thick straps of her dress, the only feminine shape being her small chest.

I gave her a quick half hearted side smile and walked around her to leave since Kankuro and Temari were now occupied.

"Where are you going?"

I stopped at the door to look at the daughter. Her thick, but shapely eyebrow was raised, smirking at me.

"To the lake," I answered.

She asked, "Can I come with? I don't want to watch this mess."

It wasn't my lake to say no to... "Okay."

She saddled up next to me, following my pace as I walked down the poorly lit hallway. "My name is Julia."

"...Gaara."

o o o

"What are you doing?" Sasuke asks.

I'm watching a fire fizzle out into streams of gray smoke, but the damage has been done. My face is charred tissue like a half barbequed rib.

"The water looked nice."

He picks up my sneakers from the ground, looking at the tag in the tongue. "You got tiny feet."

I still have feet. I saved them by putting them in the water.

"Yeah, I know."

"The teachers are gonna yell if you stay here. Lunch or not, don't think we can treat the water fountain as a foot soak."

He pats me on the back and my eyeball flies into the water with a soft plop. My hand flails to reach it, but Sasuke pulls me out, mumbling about a teacher coming.

"But my eye-" I start.

"What about your eye?"

"What about yours?"

"What about mine?"

They're bleeding. Why are they bleeding?

"They're dumb."

Sasuke slowly hands me my sneakers as the teacher walks past us and says hello. He returns the greeting and gives me a smirk.

"I know you're sick, but maybe you had too much medicine today."

I watched the blood trickle into his mouth. He sprayed it onto me as he spoke. I can't see it anywhere on my black clothes, but I see it on my half burned hands, droplets like bad acupuncture.

"Yeah..." I agree, trying to wipe it off with my sleeve. "I did."

o o o

"Gaara, if you didn't feel so good, you should have just stayed home," Temari lectures, turning at the light. "I had to leave work early for this, you could have even told Kankuro before he left town, he could have taken care of you."

She stops at a stop sign and corrects herself. "Well, I guess you don't feel a stomach bug until you catch it."

I only replay the scene in my head.

Temari starts again. "I just hope that girl doesn't it catch it now."

I remember the girl's face.

 _"So you know, Naruto had it coming. He should have apologized for the chlamydia he fucked into the student body and instead, he pussed out. In fact, since he isn't here, how about you do it, goth freak?"_

 _"I'm sorry..."_

 _"What?"_

I relive the screech of yellow and red bile hitting an unintended, but warranted, mark.

"I didn't even know projective vomit was even a real thing!"

I'm silent, smiling to myself.

"Same."

o o o

We survived the week of high school without much of a hiccup. Naruto with his booming voice and laughter drew a lot of unwanted attention, but nothing that surpassed the comments we got in junior high. But overall, none of Kankuro's tales came true. Most people just ignored us. I had one or two goth kids approach me with no real outcome. Naruto gained a throng of loud kids who spent our third day of lunch arguing over what tv series was better. They weaved in and out of my time with Naruto for the next five months, but he never forgot to get together and tell me about high school drama about people I didn't know. It was almost like when he re-enacted the shows from tv he liked, so I treated it like that. Stories about characters I knew nothing about.

To my surprise, he never joined theatre. He was all about the dramatics, the exaggeration. He was pure charisma wrapped up in an ugly orange jacket, but instead, he joined me in the literary club. I may have actually pushed him into it. Although he was all smiles during the school day, he was hurting on the inside. The summer before high school, those fights between his parents got worse. Every other night, sometimes when he was in the same room. He spent most of the summer with me, hanging out in my lukewarm room with his games on blast while I thumbed through my books. It was as peaceful as it could be, even when he took extended bathroom breaks from trying to inhale my kitchen. Growing boy or not, Temari threatened to beat him if he attempted to eat another stick of butter.

I didn't want him to go a bad route. He never wanted to talk to me about how he felt, other than the vague statement of 'they keep me up with all that yelling.' So, I urged him to join the literary club and express himself with writing.

"Do you even write, Gaara?" Naruto asked me.

I nodded, but told him, "I have... other things I want to get out of my head still."

Naruto pulled me into a bear hug, lifting me off the ground in the middle of the cafeteria. I heard a few snickers as he shook my tiny body. "Come oooon, you can talk to me whenever!"

"Put me down," I gasped. Luckily, he spared my ribs and set me down. I smoothed my clothes, paid for my lunch, and pulled us to a nearby empty table to keep talking to him. "I know I can, but same can be said about you... you know?"

His blue eyes darted immediately from mine as he scrunched his mouth. "I mean... I guess?" He leaned towards me and quietly asked, "But, I don't want my name attached to anything embarrassing. Especially if I'm not a good writer. I've never even tried besides English class."

"Well, you could use a fake name, like an alias or something."

"Like what?"

I gave a small pause, wondering what would even suit him as a fake name.

He snapped his fingers and pointed at me. "What about Violet!?"

"Why Violet?"

"I had a weird dream of turning into Violet from the Willy Wonka movie, like I ate too much ramen and turned into a giant egg, and I started to crush all the ramen booth competition in Tokyo as I rolled out of control down this hill and-"

After his long explanation of his dream, we agreed on Violet. So, Naruto and I began writing stories and occasionally a poem for the literary club. At the end of the year, they planned to collect the best works to put into a magazine to be sold in the school. I didn't have much interest in it, but Naruto wanted to be in it. If most of his work got into the magazine, that meant he didn't have to be embarrassed of his writings. It was proof it was good at writing.

"It'd be nice to be good at _something_ ," the blond stated with a tired sigh.

"What do you mean?" I asked. "You're great at acting."

"Anyone can act, Gaara. It's committed play pretend."

"And if you're bad at writing?"

Naruto threw his hands up in the air with a huff. "Then, I don't know, what's new!? Sucking at everything you fucking achieve at." He turned back to me, noticing my confused face. He put his hands back on his lap and apologized. "I'm sorry, that came out bad. It's just my mom has been getting on my case about my grades since graduation after seeing you get award after award. 'Oh, your Gaara friend got _four_ certificates, you should do more. He's going to be in advanced courses this year? Oh wow, I'm sure he's going to get grants and scholarships if he keeps it up. You should study with him more, maybe you can get a scholarship too. There shouldn't be an excuse why you should be in summer school _again_. You have a smart friend, have him help you. He could be your tutor.' It's such a fucking pain!"

I looked around, noting the kids who stopped to watch Naruto's freak out. I leaned over and quietly reminded him of where we were.

His head shot up to the three kids who hovered nearby. He shouted a loud, "What!?" before they scattered. He put his head on the table, mumbling, "I'm sorry, forget embarrassing myself while writing, I can embarrass myself by just by being myself..."

I patted his back in my vain attempt to comfort him. "Is that true?"

"Yeah... I'm jealous. At this rate, my mom will adopt you just to brag about your success."

"As much as I like you, I don't know if I can deal with a second Kankuro."

"Shut up, I'm so much better than Kankuro."

"If you mean by 2%, sure."

He punched me in the arm and I kicked him off his chair, falling with little grace. Naruto tried to get back at me before a teacher stopped us, thinking we were genuinely fighting. We apologized and were spared of a write up, giggling to ourselves that we would even fight like that. Besides, we both agreed Naruto could beat me in a fight paydays. He just had to bear hug me until my ribs pierced my lungs. Both of our food was cold with five minutes to the bell, so he just started pushing it around, sticking two fries into his mouth and pretending to be a vampire.

At that point, I never considered myself in any way enviable. I was shorter than every boy in high school. Pale as the vampire he pretended to be. I couldn't make small talk unless it was a topic I was familiar with and in that case, I'd annoy everyone describing why it's important to know which sign you had in Venus before you made a connection with a partner. (Star freak, remember?) The only valuable gifts I had was a good memory and being a quick learn.

That outburst from Naruto? It had me second guess the way I held myself around him. Maybe I acted too smart or complained about hard classes too much and he thought it was my way to passive aggressively taunting him? I really didn't want him to think like that because it wasn't the truth. I hoped literary club would help express himself better because what I witnessed, I don't think it was Naruto. Just pent up teenage hormonal angst.


	3. Chapter 3

Sasuke Uchiha. His name always dances along the hallways when he walks through. Intelligent, passing most classes without a hitch. Handsome, girls swooning when he even glanced in their direction. Charming, winning most people over with a smirk and suave words. Yet you can't peg him as part of any high school stereotype. He isn't the most popular boy in school, just the most well known. He flits between social groups without mishaps, yet the closest thing he gets to is the theatre club. Even then, Sasuke never hangs out with them outside of activity hours. His hip is glued to Neji or-

"Me?"

Sasuke's dark bangs don't hide the amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Yeah, you. You threw up all over Ino Yamanaka."

I look back into my locker, pretending to search for my next class' textbook.

"...Not me." I clear my throat, adding a small hack to the end.

"Gaara, there were like twenty kids in class who saw it. Especially the 'goth freak' thing. How many goths do we have in this school?"

I'm ready to combat the goth comment, but I remember my clothes. All black, red sneakers.

"Whatever, it happened. Stomach bug." I admit, just to get him off my ass.

"That's why you were out yesterday."

I reach into my locker for the textbook. I wriggle my fingers behind the book where I feel a flimsy aluminum package.

"Yeah. I'm still sick though." I dig my finger into one of the pill pockets. "Really bad cold."

Sasuke steps back as I give another hacking cough. "Gross." He turns on his heel to leave, giving a wave with his back to me. "Later."

I watch again, his well dressed form weaving through the busy hallway, rounding the corner with a certain brunet, moon-eyed boy. I pull out the packet from behind the textbook, popping out eight and dry swallowing one at a time. Four for every week a certain brunet, moon-eyed boy blew me off since returning to school.

I slam my locker shut and go towards the side exit of the school instead of class, tapping at my cellphone screen.

 _I need a hit._

Instant reply. _It's not even 2nd period yet?_

 _Yes or no?_

There's a long pause as I tuck myself in the corner of the exit's doorway from any spying eyes. I count sixty specks in the floor tiles when I got a _ding_.

 _Yeah, out here now_

I slip through the door, dashing away from the prison bells.

o o o

"Gaara, are you okay?"

I immediately slap Kiba's hand off my shoulder when I stir awake.

 _Right, we were smoking_.

My hand dances along my right thigh, playing with a hot hole left from the cherry of the blunt.

"You almost lit yourself on fire, dude," he pushes. "If you're too tired to hold, you shouldn't b-"

"No," I interrupt. "I'm fi-"

"You already have an upset stomach from yesterday, right? Shouldn't you be taking it easy?"

He's frustrated. Brown eyes staring into my blue through the gray haze of our smoke. Caterpillar eyebrows furled, rivaling the brown halo of baby hairs hiding under his gray hood. The whiskers on his snout twitch. I can't believe I ever let this hairy monster top me.

"Unless you're looking for a hate fuck, don't look at me like that, Inuzaka."

Kiba scoffs. " _Sorry_ for not wanting you to pass out and choke on vomit, Sabaku."

I bite my tongue. I want to tell him to spare me the pity, but it'll just cause a fight. I watch as he stuffs the dead blunt into an empty coffee cup and pulls out a grinder from the truck's middle console.

"This one's for me. I think you had enough," he mutters.

"I haven't even had that much."

He prods his claw into the fresh hole in my black jeans. "You almost burned yourself, you're done."

"Are you fucking kidd-?" I stop myself when his eyes meet mine. His body is tense, tail fluffed like he's ready to argue with me, but his eyes are just as soft as before. Concern. I lean into my side of the truck and cross my arms. "Fine. Your weed, your rules."

A small smile flits across his face. "Cool." The mood settles down until he asks, "So, what's going on with you and Neji?"

I try to imagine a cherry river streaming down my throat. I'm not answering. I'm not acknowledging.

A long silence follows, interspersed with the quiet grind of leaves.

"You wanna talk abo-?"

"No."

I watch his paws nimbly scatter the greenery and roll and lick the paper. It was weird how his fat tongue didn't accidentally scoop up the contents. It barely made it across the lip. He holds the blunt between his claws as he fondles his jacket for the lighter.

"I thought it woof in my pocket..." Kiba mumbles to himself, trying to flip open his chest pocket.

I shut my eyes, biting the curse word sitting at the tip of my tongue. "I'm so sick."

"What?"

"Nothing. Shut up."

"Woof just admitted you're sick, go to the nurse's."

"Please. Shut up."

"Why? I-"

I open my eyes. I see his brown hair sticking out from the hoodie he's drowning in. I reach out to scratch his ear. He turns his head in confusion as I rake my nails behind the flop of fur.

"What are you doing?"

I shake my head. "Where's your water bowl?"

"Uhh, you mean my smoke bow-?"

"Water bowl, I'm thirsty."

"I have a water bottl-"

"Dog don't use bottles, silly."

I continue to scratch his ear while he stays frozen in place. What a good dog, so well behaved.

"...How woofing high are you?"

I stop and lean away.

The hooded Chow Chow stares back at me, panting with its head turned. One paw on the wheel, one holding the blunt that burns the black dog bed he is sitting on.

"...Very."

o o o

My ninth grade self was not prepared to meet Neji Hyuuga. All throughout junior high, I was surrounded by the normal preteen boys. Generic looks, plain clothes, most played sports or were nerds. There was no one that stood out among them besides Naruto, with bright orange clothes, toothy grin, and wild blond hair, and me, the short redhead with angry black eyeliner to match my black ensembles. When we got to high school, it was almost comforting to know that we were no longer the outcasts. At least in the high school which combined with another nearby county.

In the denial of my sexuality, I hadn't thought of the idea of presenting flamboyant in anyway. No one in junior high expressed any feminine qualities, just your generic dudebros. I saw on television how some gay men were more lively than the typical guy, gesturing with hands, having a higher inflection of voice. Sometimes the clothes were stylized and even the way some walked had a spring to it. At the time, I used this as 'evidence' that I couldn't be gay. I wasn't like those men with a particular speech pattern or feminine behavior. It was a fluke that I eyeballed the football team after school. It was biological curiosities of the human body, not the way water dripped off their chests when they sprayed their water bottles or the deep grunts and yells of tackles I did _not_ fantasize about every other week.

So when I met my first met a (not fellow) gay guy, it lifted a veil I was unknowledgeable about. He was in my grade from the other county. Bubblegum pink t-shirt, tight jeans, and curly, pale blond hair. His face filled with a grin much like Naruto's when I sat beside him for a partner assigned project. I hadn't asked if he was, but I assumed, though I kept that observation to myself for the duration of our time together. For a week, we bounced between working on this assignment in the library and my home. He asked me questions about my clothes and my hair, curious of the ways of 'the goth.' I noted the higher pitch of his voice and the low treble of my own. He used the phrase 'like totally adorable' to describe the ceramic miniatures of dogs on my shelf. I noted the extra words he used versus my own simple 'cute' to my small collection.

At dinner with my siblings, he verified my assumption, using the term 'my boyfriend' when talking about his trip to the local festival. I almost choked on my food as the words slipped into my ears. I hardly had time to register it as my brother and sister just nodded, recounting old tales of their own about the festival. They hadn't even flinched at the mention of his boyfriend. Which meant hours after his departure, I had a tear filled confession with them of the internal turmoil I had been dealing with. They hugged me and told me that I was young and I didn't need to label myself so soon. I was only fourteen, nothing was set in stone.

But I met Neji when I switched my math class for the second semester. Like a perfect 'meet cute' scenario, we were passing back the textbooks needed when I turned around and caught his eyes. Milky whites peering into my soul, framed with long, dark brown hair that pooled at the edge of his desk. The perfect V shape jawline that he moved to ask, "Can I get the books, please?" His fingers slid over mine to hold.

I practically shoved the books back to his surprise and whipped back around in my seat, slamming my face to the desk.

My face felt like it matched my hair. I had no idea who he was, but my heart got thrown back along with those books and I hoped he had caught it.

o o o

I feel rough hands on the side of my face, trying to hold me up. I don't understand the noise around me. I can smell the rancid waft of stomach acid, maple syrup, and fruit. I _see_ the X-ray scan in my head. My kneecaps are splintering like a cracked wooden pencil. They're screaming from the pressure of the pavement, every pore a mouth with a silent voice. The noises continue, but I just can't hear it over the cherry waterfall that soaks my jeans. Sloshes, heaving, trembling. The hands keep me steady. Whoever they belong to. I can't ask who it is. The river burned away my voice.

o o o

Neji couldn't see my face in the moon light, so I took advantage of it, staring at his sleeping form.

It was tenth grade for me and I had gotten closer to Neji than I expected. We still weren't a couple. We hardly flirted with one another, but we had long conversations that made me feel closer to him. I fully trusted him. We had hang outs whenever he was free from his junior year workload and an occasional sleepover at his place. We never spoke up when our fingers lingered on one another's for too long or if a head was placed on a shoulder during a movie. If our legs touched while we sat or if one had their head on the other's chest in the morning. It was a silent agreement between us. As far as I knew, Neji wasn't out with his family, just with me and his friends. It was our secret pact of scalp massages, long gazes, and hand holds. I wasn't going to push him if he wasn't ready. I was amazed we even got to this point, especially with Naruto's sabotaging.

The first time I told Naruto about how well Neji and I got on, he narrowed his blond brows at me and said, "You're blowing it out of proportion."

I brushed it off as normal jealousy. While he was sleeping around for fun, I was pursuing a genuine connection. The girls he actually liked wanted nothing to do with him because of the reputation he started for himself. I saw no issue with him exploring himself, just the way he acted after the fact. Bragging, divulging personal details about the person. It was disrespectful, yet he always found another body to jump in the next two days.

Every time I tried to tell Naruto about my blossoming relationship, he plucked the fresh petals off.

"For someone who supposedly 'likes' you, it's funny how he hasn't even tried to kiss you."

"You should just get over him, he just using you for stress relief from school. If you mattered that much, wouldn't he have come out already?"

"See how he has his arm around Sasuke? He doesn't even do that to you. He doesn't care about you, you're so blind."

I fought Naruto nail and tooth about Neji, defending him anyway I could, but the blond always pressed on. Neji was a player and I didn't matter. I even brought up that a player would be pressuring me for sex, he never once asked that from me. Naruto told me that every teenage guy wants sex and Neji was just slicker than the average asshole because he was handsome _and_ smart.

"He's a nicotine patch, Gaara. You're going to keep going back and never be satisfied. He's going to make you beg for the entire pack, just watch."

But I just brushed my fingers through Neji's soft hair and kissed his forehead, pushing Naruto's words away.

o o o

"I shouldn't have let you smoke."

Kiba is human again, standing over my lifeless body. My back is melted to the pavement. I can smell not only my pancake purge, but a dumpster just outside the corner of my eye. I stare up into the blue sky, waiting for his next sentence.

It doesn't come. He's waiting for me.

"Where are we?" My voice cracks.

"You passed out again after you tried cuddling 'the adorable pupper.' I drove off campus just in case. If we got caught and you were that fucked up, they would have definitely had Temari called in and probably give you a suspension."

"But where are we?"

"I was going to sneak you back into your house, but you started to do the-" Kiba imitates a retching sound. "-thing, so we're behind the Chinese place, five minutes from you."

"I don't want to go back."

"Gaara, you're covered in puke. You need to shower and change. I ain't telling you what to do, but I ain't sticking around for another round. Part of that mess is mine because I couldn't take it."

"I'm going to get it all over your truck."

"Now that you're done exorcising your stomach, I can go by the dollar store, get some cheap garbage bags. Cover the seat or wear them like a poncho."

"...Poncho."

o o o

Kankuro catches me home early when he comes back from his afternoon classes.

"Whatcha doing here?"

I shrug, sipping my water as I flick through the tv channels. Mop bucket right beside me.

"Stomach bug wasn't done."

"How did you get home?"

"I made Kiba skip third period to take me back."

Kankuro groans into his hands. "Gaara, you can't just skip if you feel bad. You have to go to the nurse and the office so _we_ can pick you up."

"At least I came home."

"That's not the po-" He stops and tugs off his cat eared hood. His orange choppy hair looks brighter under the living room lights. His face paint looks sad today with droopy eyebrows and an extended frown. It lends its hand to Kankuro's soft words. "We're responsible for you. Let us take care of you."

"...I'm sorry."

The sad clown face perks up and he double checks the bucket beside me where I rinsed my jeans off into. The look on his face sure reminded me how pungent it was.

"Temari's breakfast doesn't taste the same the second time, huh?"

"Not at all."

o o o

The next morning, Temari offers me pancakes again. I gag on memories of yesterday.

o o o

"Why?"

I watch Neji flinch upon hearing my voice. His shoulders are tense under his cream sweater. His face hides behind his locker door, but I can see the saliva travel down his throat. I don't know what face I have on. I just know that I need answers after the long day I had and the dilly dallying of him placing his textbooks into the locker is making me mad.

I ask again. "You haven't talked to me. Why?"

He peers from the locker door, then away from me. His voice is quiet and unsure. "I... I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything." I prefer if he doesn't say anything.

His pale eyes meet my blue. "You never answered my texts."

"We had a short notice vacation."

"Before that."

I frown. I vaguely remember getting a message or two from Neji before my trip, but I was-

"Busy." Neji raises an eyebrow. "With..." I trail off, hoping he gets the hint.

He does, giving a nod and slowly closing his locker. Nothing to separate our stares. He adjusts the books in his arms, mouth twisted like he's still forming the correct sentence. Nothing he can say will make me feel better besides the one that ran through my head these past two weeks.

"If you have nothing to say, that's fine, but stop ignoring me... please?"

Neji awkwardly pinches at his other arm, looks me up and down, and mumbles a small 'I'm sorry.'

"That's not agreeing to talk to me again."

His pout twitches to a tiny smile. "No problem, Gaara."

My name on his tongue is the spell that binds me back to his hold. My fix.

With a darker smile he asks, "Can I ask about the Ino thing?"

"Never mind, keep ignoring me."

o o o

The roof of my house was my solace for a long time. Even before the star freak nickname, I went against my family's warnings and climbed onto the roof from my window. I didn't do it often since I get cold easily, but I would pull myself up from the ledge to the flat top of the roof. It just overlooked the tops of the H.O.A. approved trees, so there wasn't a skyline of any sort. Sunsets were cut off by windy branches and triangular roofs. I still climbed up though to escape and have some peace. I could count the cars parked along the street, the mailboxes that sat in front of the homes. Watch my next door neighbor plant azaleas before next season came. Free to observe everything around me without the noise in my ear.

When the sun finally disappeared, I could lay back and be consumed by the darkness, count every speck of white that grew brighter and brighter. I'm sure everyone's had a dream of being an astronaut and floating in space. Free of gravity to drift and tour the universe of its boundless wonders we yet to have discovered. During rough times in my life, that's what I imagined. There was invisible twine wrapped around my torso and I would be yanked up by a metaphysical force. With a blink of an eye, bypassing atmospheric layers until I was just outside of gravitational pull. The twine was cut and I would just float in the endless sea of stardust.

I told Kankuro that if I died, I want him to launch my ashes into space somehow. I want no binding to the Earth. He asked if I was purposefully being dramatic. I wasn't, I just felt no attachment to this world.

When I told my therapist the same thing, he gave me a pamphlet on speaking to loved ones about these thoughts when he wasn't available. If I ever developed a preoccupation with those thoughts, to contact him and the number provided on the pamphlet immediately. I stopped bringing it up in sessions. Mostly because those thoughts rarely entered my head to begin with. Only in my darkest times, laying on the roof with glassy eyes and heavy lungs, trying to will the universe to just tug me up through the clouds like a balloon. My astrology obsession minimized those thoughts for a long time. I was busy studying houses and meteors, memorizing strengths and weaknesses. There wasn't time to be a balloon when I was a servant to the stars.

Naruto came into my life and became my anchor, my real life Sun. Things weren't as dark when he was around. A perpetual smile and infectious laugh brightened my perspective. Yet... he was human. Over time, his darkness eclipsed him and I. I laid on the roof more often. I tried to think of the stars, their relationships to one another, the stories of equinoxes, but in the back of my mind, I imagined that string attached to me. I wanted to feel it tug, just once. Just one fucking time.

When I was fourteen, I was rushed to the E.R. with my forearm sliced around eleven at night. I didn't jump. I actually slipped while climbing back down, hit the porch veranda, and slipped off onto the lawn. A metal piece of the drain cut me open on the way down. Temari and Kankuro banned me from roof climbing after that, but that never stopped me from doing it. They couldn't watch my every move at every time of the day.

So even now, as I lay on the roof, I raise my right arm to the moon light and count the old stitches of the patchwork memory, it's how I ease my brain. The sky erases the neighborhood, the streetlights force the people inside. It's not the peace of the desert, but it's as good as it gets. A view of constellations and scattered planes to occupy my eyes. I try to connect my astronomy facts in my head again with little result. School took away from time to study and facts I memorized weeks ago have already drifted. And with my same scarred arm outstretched to the moon, I remember those dark times... these dark times... and pretend to deny my wish of being lifted up by my hand again.

o o o

 **July 27th**

I finished off the last bottle of water we had by twelve in the afternoon and I was still thirsty. The best way I could describe it is that it was like a rough-tongued cat licking my esophagus. I shared that little analogy with Kankuro, whom gagged at the mere though of it. He got up to wash the taste from his mouth, only to see that I had legitimately drunk the last bottle of water. He thought I was kidding. I don't kid. I told him he's free to enjoy the seltzer water I left. All eight bottles of it. He turned down my offer and plopped beside me on the orange seat, complaining about Temari's extremely long phone call.

For the past three days, we'd been living on a free RV camping reserve. It was open land offered by the desert foundation a few feet down the road. They gave tours of the desert, including hiking, plant life, and provided free white turbans or bucket hats to keep cool. The only reason why we stopped here though was because Temari had to make a phone call to my aunt. My aunt owned a little ranch motel thing somewhere in this desert. Temari wanted to stay there for the month which to me defeated the purpose of a desert roadtrip. Perhaps we had different definitions, but I defined mine by that the 'trip' portion should be equal, if not more important than the 'road' part. I wanted to see the desert, feel the sand between my toes, touch the scalding stones. Temari wanted to see it at sixty miles per hour through a glass window.

For once, I thought life was giving me a moment of happiness when my aunt turned down Temari's request. The ranch was booked for the next two weeks. I was ready to run outside and make sand angels in celebration, though life yanked the victory away. My aunt suggested the Trailer Park Inn which was supposed to be a few miles beyond the ranch. It was closer to town than the ranch, so we could go and get more supplies without purchasing from the Inn. This wouldn't do. I refused to sleep in a trailer. It was bad enough that I slept in the RV, but a trailer? Where was the adventure in that?

If Naruto was there, he would have convinced me to run away from the RV with him. We'd steal one of the tents my siblings weren't planning on using and sleeping bags, running off towards the sunset. We'd settle by a rocky area and set up camp. During the night, we'd dance around the bonfire, howling to the moon in cheer, and drink water from cacti. Flurries of sand would surround our ankles as we stomped and kicked about, serenading Mother Earth with our feet until the Sandman would hover our us and sprinkle his magic sand in our eyes. We'd curl up with each other and go to sleep. And the last thing I would remember as I fell into slumber would be the smell of Naruto's coconut shampoo. Temari and Kankuro weren't like this though. They were modern children in need of electricity and running water. I was a modern child by association and the Trailer Park Inn was the only available source of free wifi internet in miles.

I managed to convince them otherwise. I don't even know how I did it because I don't remember it happening. Somehow, I went from groaning in complaint to seeing Temari approve of the suggestion I didn't remember saying and going over to the reserve's main building to ask questions. There was a three day maximum stay due to a limit of free supplies the reserve could provide to campers. I was content with this result. Kankuro and Temari seemed apprehensive about living outside, but I would turn them into nature lovers by the end of the three days. (I hoped.)

That afternoon, we joined a nature hike with one of the reserve rangers. Us and two other RV families followed the tall, khaki-dressed man on a beaten down path of crunchy sand and dead weeds. I tried to take a deep breath of the fresh desert air, but instead I smelt the sweat of the woman in front of me. Our group started up a small rock hill with an opening in the side. It was a cave that the man claimed was used by the local Native American tribe in the past. It wasn't the main cave, but rather one that was used for skinning animals and cooking. The ranger said that over time, the blood of the animals stained the rocks permanently. As we stepped into the cave, cameras went off almost immediately, lighting up the whole damn place. Tourists. I despise them.

We visited another two caves nearby, however, the tour was not as nice as I wished it to be. I blame it on the other RV families. The chattering, the crying children, the cameras. It was annoying as fuck. By the time the tour came to an end, I couldn't wait to go back to the RV just to get some quiet. That didn't happen either. Temari and Kankuro didn't know what to do without electricity. I let them complain though. I had a desert plant life book I bought from the gift shop to read.

The second day fell into the same pattern. We took another hike to different cave on a hill and saw plants along the trail that seemed almost fantastical. There was one green plant with coil-like tentacles and there were blossoming cacti with fat daisies sprouting from the top. There was a ball-shaped cactus that Kankuro almost stepped on with lots of red flowers that I really liked. The hike began to wrap up and we were once again in the RV with Temari and Kankuro complaining about nothing to do and I reading about plant life. At some point, Temari was fed up and made a call back to our aunt for directions to the Trailer Park Inn.

I didn't want to go. I wanted to stay there. Not in the RV, but in the desert. Temari was ruining it all again by trying to expunge me from my dream. I pulled on some of the basic hiking gear the tour guides suggested. A white wide-brimmed hat, dark sunglasses, a small backpack filled with water, dry food, a compass, and First Aid kit, and a white long sleeve shirt. I went outside with a bullshit excuse that I needed fresh air.

I wanted sand. I wanted flowers. I wanted rat blood-stained walls all around me. Just the desert.

I followed the main path the khaki men had led us on, all the way down to the trails that they called 'treacherous' or 'intermediate,' in the mood for a bit of a challenge. I took the first one I saw to the right. It _was_ a challenge. The incline steadily rose as it neared the canyons and caves, roots and stones jutted from the floor that I stumbled over every so often. I had to stop in place, watching a snake coil around a plant for a few seconds, then bury itself into the sand towards another rock. I sped up after that to make it to my vague destination without coming across another slithering demon.

I was almost to a new canyon we had not seen when I had a feeling. A strange feeling that nagged me, like someone tugging me away. I didn't want to go, I wanted to see something new. Untouched by the annoying tourists, discovered by the dedicated hikers. But I turned tail with the image of that one cave I had seen the outside of, fifty feet away. I could see Naruto trying to scale its outside. He would be more amused to sit on top of the rock feature than even be in it. He liked being on top of the world.


End file.
